The Last Laugh
by CarmelaCosta
Summary: When gangster Vincent Doherty moves to Gotham, people aren't best pleased, least of all the Joker. But when his scheme to kidnap Doherty's only child Neve is successful, things in Gotham begin to take an even bloodier turn for the worst, as the Joker wrestles with the need to maintain control over his city and the influence of one Neve Doherty.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Batman or the DC Universe, if I did I'd be running around the grounds of my manor house being chased by my 101 French Bulldogs but... I don't.**

 **AN:/ Okay, so this is a story that I began writing a very very long time ago (2014 - yes, to me that's an age) A lot happened over the past two years that basically meant I stopped writing altogether, let alone actually continuing to update stories I'd already posted.**

 **I'm really sorry, but now that I'm going to university about mid-way through September (yay), I am planning to get back into the swing of writing and regularly updating and this was the only story I still had inspiration to continue.**

 **I've taken down the old version, which admittedly was _only_ three chapters long so you're not really missing out on much, but consider this 'The Last Laugh: 2.0' - written and edited by a girl now with an A-Level in English, not just a GCSE *gasps*. I feel I've set you up with unrealistic expectations of my writing ability there - I just throw this shit together and hope it passes as half decent.**

 **ENOUGH FOR NOW**

 **ENJOY**

* * *

 **Chapter One**

Chilling laughter began to fill the room and its occupants all sat up taller in their chairs, peering into the darkness in which the sound was emanating from.

It began to draw to a close. "Ha ho hee ha aha… and I thought my jokes were bad?" The emerging figure said.

He was quite tall although hunched over slightly, dressed in a tailored suit made up of a slightly worn purple trench coat with matching pin-stripe trousers that were kept up with suspenders. Underneath this, he wore a green waistcoat and a light blue shirt with a hexagonal pattern. His face was white with flaking greasepaint, with blackened eyes, red smeared over his gruesome scars and greasy, green unkempt hair on top of his head. The Joker.

"Gimme one reason why I shouldn't have my boy here pull your head off?" Gambol, one of the mobsters threatened.

"How about a magic trick?" He paused whilst Gambol motioned for his bodyguard to deal with the irritating clown. "I'm gonna make this pencil disappear." The Joker stated after taking out a pencil and stabbing it into the table.

The man was beside him in a few steps and reached up with his palm to try and grab the purple-clad murderer, but before he could get a fistful of his suit the Joker had his hand on the back of his head and pushed him down onto the pencil, sending it through his eye socket.

"Ta-da! It's ma- gone…" He rasped before turning his attention back to the table of bosses.

"Oh and by the way the suit, it wasn't cheap… You oughta know, you bought it." He goaded, readjusting the trench coat as he did.

Immediately Gambol was on his feet but before he could open his mouth the Russian boss, Chechen, interrupted.

"Sit. I want to hear proposition." He said in a heavy accent.

The Joker licked his lips and pointed to Chechen, his eyes darting back and forth around the room, whilst Gambol slowly returned to his seat, his heated glare never leaving the clown sat across from him.

"Let's wind the clocks back a year… These cops and lawyers wouldn't _dare_ cross any of you. Uh, I mean what happened? D'ya balls drop off? Hmm? You see a guy like me…"

He was interrupted by Gambol. "Freak." This caused the other men in the room to chuckle as the Joker sat by and chewed on the ragged flesh of his scars.

"A guy like me…" He trailed off. "Look, listen, I know why you choose to have your little–" He paused to cough. "–group therapy sessions in broad daylight, I know why you're afraid to go out at night. _The Batman_." He drawled before continuing.

"You see, Batman has shown Gotham your true colours unfortunately. Dent, he's just the beginning. And as for the, uh, television's so called plan… Batman has no jurisdiction; he'll find him and make him squeal." He pointed at the television showing Lau's face and mimed strangling him. "I know the squealers when I see them, and…"

Chechen spoke. "What do you propose?"

The Joker grinned. "It's simple, we uh- kill the Batman." At this all the mobsters laughed and turned to each other with large smirks on their faces at the seemingly ludicrous idea.

For the first time since the Joker arrived, Sal Maroni spoke up. "If it's so simple, why haven't you done it already?" He questioned.

"If you're good at something, never do it for free." He growled in response.

Again Chechen spoke. "How much you want?"

The Joker leaned forward in his seat slightly before answering. "Uh… Half." Again, causing the group of bosses to chuckle amongst themselves.

To his right, someone hissed. "You're crazy."

He cut his eyes at them and sucked on his right scar. "I'm not. No, I'm not." He said abruptly noticing that Gambol was glowering at him and clenching his fists with barely concealed rage.

"If we don't deal with this now, soon…" He shrugged. "Little, uh-Gambol here won't be able to get a nickel for his grandma." He taunted.

At this, the gangster in mention slammed his fists down on the table, having enough of the man talking to him and finally losing his temper.

"Enough, from the clown!" He stood up simultaneously with the Joker who opened his jacket to reveal four hand grenades connect by a string that was wrapped around his finger. Soon, most of the mobsters were out of their chairs and backing aware at the new threat.

"A-ta-ta-ta-ta, let's not _blow_ this out of proportion." He twisted.

Still not deterred, Gambol continued. "You think you can steal from us and just walk away?"

"Yeah…" The Joker drawled.

"I'm putting the word out. Five-hundred grand for this clown dead, a million alive– so I can teach him some manners first." The livid boss growled, baring his teeth.

"Alright so, listen, why don't you give me a call when you wanna start taking things a little more seri-ous-ly…" The clown said, flashing his tongue out over the scar on his lower lip.

"Here's my card." He placed the Joker card down on the table before all the men, and started to back up, glancing back and forth between them and Gambol, all the while gently tugging on the string connected to the grenades. Once he reached the door, he kicked it open and disappeared from sight in a flash.

* * *

 **5:30am, Gotham** **City** **Limits…**

Despite the meeting with the mob bosses last night, the Joker was in a good mood and so far his current plan was working perfectly. With practiced stealth, he shifted quietly from one foot to the other, silently pacing around the room. Gaining access to the house had proven to be an easy task; one of his goons had overridden the security system so that he was free to roam the house without alerting its inhabitants of his presence. So far, he'd only run into the maid inside the house, who was now locked in a cupboard, unconscious, bound and gagged. It was after much searching that he found himself in his current position, debating his next move.

Ignoring the sleeping body sprawled across the bed, he went to examine the mirrored dressing table, picking up and messing with everything in sight. A silver, engraved hairbrush caught his eye and he ran his leather-clad fingertips over the symbols and traced the grooves that spelt out a name. He pocketed the brush and slipped an object out of his inner breast pocket to place on the table in exchange. The room was elegantly decorated and he felt physically sick at the 'Daddy's Number One' mug that rested on the table beside her head, the remnants of hot chocolate crusted to the bottom and sides. He'd never thought that a mob boss would have possessed any love or shown any affection for their progeny, but perhaps British gangsters were just different.

He knew that he wasn't the only one who'd expressed interest in destroying Steven Doherty, but he was definitely the first that had the balls to waltz right in and kidnap his only daughter, the most precious thing to Doherty. He'd brought ten of his best guys with him, expecting the house to be guarded like a medieval fortress, but aside from the two burly men at the gates, he hadn't run into any security. This was _Gotham._ The guy must be stupid to not have his home watched, _especially_ when 'Daddy's Number One' was asleep, alone and completely defenceless.

The said daughter began to stir, her eyelids fluttering delicately and her arms stretching upwards whilst she yawned and twisted her spine. Noticing this, he removed himself from her bedside and melted into the shadows on the far side of the bedroom. The covers rustled and the floor creaked when she slid out of bed without any grace, landing in a heap on the soft carpet. Upon feeling the carpet touch her face, she curled up and seemed to resume sleeping on the floor. He heard a small squeaking sound and flicked out the blade of his switchknife, prepared to take on what he presumed to be an intruder with the same idea as he. He was however, unprepared when he saw a tiny black nose poke out from under the covers, before revealing its whole face, legs and soon its full body. The puppy leapt out of the bed and landed straight on the girl's stomach, winding her and making the dog the recipient of a string of expletives. She tried to push the boisterous little thing off of her but the stubborn creature resisted and started licking inside the girl's ear. He sneered and she squealed and tried even harder to escape from the persistent animal.

"Squid, G-get off m-me," She gasped between bouts of laughter, her voice reaching an even higher pitch than her previous squeals. It was going right through him but he smiled, knowing that by taking her away, she'd be separated from the dog which would no doubt cause her pain. He also thought that name was ridiculous. The girl clambered to her feet, her knees shaking. He raised his eyebrows when he saw her not-so-modest choice of nightwear and a disgusted frown formed on his face. The oversized t-shirt reached mid-thigh where it ended to reveal bony and bruised legs. He didn't like how skinny she was. Did they feed her here? He could tell, even in the darkness, that she lacked the generous features that he desired. Her collarbone jutted out from under her skin and her face was thin, gaunt and too pale.

She was not beautiful and he found himself disappointed by this. Her nose was tiny but her lips were wide and full, throwing off the balance of her face. Compared to the rest of her frame, her hair was like a voluminous mountain on top of her head. Shining slightly and falling in tangled waves down to her waist. He hadn't been expecting someone strikingly beautiful, but he'd predicted that she would at least have some form of tender beauty. He didn't like being wrong.

She stumbled over to the dressing table he'd been stood at only a few minutes before. He supposed that this must be how she came to collect so many bruises unless her father had a nasty habit for inflicting them, but judging from what he'd seen so far, he doubted that this was the case. An evil grin formed on his face when he saw her pick up the joker card that he'd placed after removing her hairbrush. He was about to step forward when she turned around, rolling her eyes as she did so before tossing it into the bin. This irritated him, but he decided to remain in his hiding spot before following her out of the door, sticking carefully to the shadows.

Down the winding path of corridors and stairs, he crept behind her, his shoes not making a sound but her heavy flat-footed steps echoed around the house. It was still dim outside, but hints of the sunrise were now becoming visible through the thin leaded windows. He was almost discovered when the girl's puppy bounded in between his legs and he felt himself have to fight to regain his balance. He'd kill the wretched thing one day, even if he had to drive back out to this house just to do so. She was headed to the kitchen, he surmised when he heard her belly growl impatiently. He didn't know that they'd reached the kitchen until he saw her stop, tuck her head into her shoulder and feel around blindly for the light switch.

 _So, the little princess is scared of the dark?_ He thought evilly to himself with many new possibilities coming to mind. She was certainly surprising him to say the least. Not what he'd expected unfortunately, but still what he needed. The spotlights in the ceiling blinked to life and light illuminated the charming room. Almost as though she were in a trance-like state, the girl made her way to a floor to ceiling cupboard where she took a plate and placed it on the central breakfast bar. Scuffing her feet across the floor with every agonisingly slow step, she shuffled over to the fridge and began searching for something to take her fancy. Whilst she was distracted by her choices, he crept out of the shadowed doorway and into the room, moving judiciously around the breakfast bar until he found the perfect place for him to stand. He heard her take a bite out of an apple and grab a few food items in her hands. Reaching around with skeletal fingers she grasped the handle on the fridge door and slammed it shut with a thump.

"Well, hello _beautiful._ " He purred as soon as he saw her eyes dart to the right, towards him.

She dropped her foodstuffs, the carton of milk breaking upon impact with the floor, sending milk splattering all up the sides of the cupboards. A piercing scream burst forth from her lips and she turned on her heel, ready to run away only to slip on the spilt milk and slam her stomach into the breakfast bar. She groaned, but still tried to sprint away but not before she felt his iron-like grip clamp around her wrist. Petrified, she squirmed away from him, lashing out with her free arm and thrashing around like an oxygen starved fish. He managed to dodge another of her pathetic and poorly aimed punches to wrap his muscular forearm around her waist and bring up the cloth doused in chloroform up to her mouth and nose.

"Sh, sh, sh. There's a little fight in you Neve. I like that." He cackled.

Her struggling continued for a moment before she was completely limp in his arms and a triumphant grin broke out on his scarred face, cracking his makeup even further. This whole operation had been a lot easier than he'd expected. Removing the charm bracelet from her wrist, he then drew out a joker card from one of his many pockets and placed it on the counter along with the bracelet. He hoped that this would be message enough for her father. Hoisting her over his shoulder, he left the house, running down the driveway as quickly as he was capable before throwing her lifeless body into the back of the white van. After jumping into the passenger seat and barking a quick order at the driver, the tires squealed and the van sped off down the long driveway and back towards central Gotham.

* * *

 **AN:/ So, as you can see, the first chapter is mainly just introducing the Joker. I chose to describe that scene from TDK basically just because it's my favourite, and in my opinion is the Joker at his best - terrifying, but still capable of making me laugh.**

 **I appreciate all reviews, good and bad, apart from the frothing-at-the-mouth-with-internet-rage type. Those get a huge 'goodbye' from me.**

 **If you enjoyed this chapter I hope that you stick with me and that I can continue to bring you some alright reading.**


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